Sorry to be so long in posting, but not too many readers — hard to feel motivated. Nonetheless, here's another chapter!
All too soon, it was almost time for the students to get on the Hogwart's express and head home for the holidays. When he heard Casper saying that his family didn't really celebrate much, Cathal invited Casper to Hughes Castle for the break, which Casper immediately and enthusiastically accepted.
"Should my parents write to yours?" Cathal asked the smaller boy, who shook his head hastily.
"Oh, no, no, that's okay - I'll ask them. That's fine. They won't mind a bit. They're always telling me to go make friends, yeah?"
"Well, great!" Cathal enthused. "I can't wait to show you around - it'll be so much fun!" He looked at the other boy shyly. "I've never had a friend over before," he admitted.
"Well, you know, me neither," Casper said softly, and they grinned at each other.
On the train, Vikram sat stiffly, as though he still weren't entirely flesh and blood, but he seemed happy to be heading home.
"My dad's going to meet me at the station, and we're going to the international portkey terminal. That's how I got to King's Cross, too." He grimaced. "My dad's a healer, so he's going to examine me before he'll let me go. I almost hope he'll say I can't do it - long-distance portkeying sucks."
"Well, if you end up getting stuck here, you can always take a muggle ferry or plane to Ireland and join us for Christmas," Cathal said brightly. "Casper is coming home with me."
"You're welcome at our house, too," Hector said. "But you'd have to put up with my Great Aunt Lydia. She has a habit of shooting off random transfiguration spells. It's good to stay out of range. She turned my brother into a newt last year."
Victoire laughed. "And you may also come to my house, I am sure. My Veela relatives come from France, which is always very entertaining. And we go over to Weasley House in Hogsmeade for Boxing Day, along with the Potters."
Everyone stared at her. "Really?" Hector asked. "You get to have hols with Harry Potter?"
She nodded, eyes gleaming. "He is good friends with my parents. My father is Ron Weasley's oldest brother."
"Oh, wow," Cathal said. "That's so cool! What's Weasley House?"
"It's a home for war orphans that my Uncle George founded, along with my grandparents."
Cathal stole a look at Casper, who was pretending not to listen, but Cathal could tell from the red flush up around his friend's ears that he had heard what Victoire said.
"Oh, really?" Cathal asked nonchalantly. "I didn't know there was such a thing. Do a lot of kids live there?"
"Not too many anymore, full time, anyway. But it's been up to 25 at times."
"Is it only kids whose parents fought against Voldemort?"
"Oh no, no," Victoire said vehemently, "of course not. In fact, the first two kids they took in had death eaters for parents. George thought the whole point was to make sure we didn't repeat history. He always says it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy if we treat those on the losing side like losers."
"I don't think too many people agree with him, though," Hector said softly.
"No," Victoire admitted. "But the kids in the house are great." She bit her lip, as though she wanted to say more and decided not to. And then changed her mind.
"Zahara and her brother lived there for a little while. Before he got the job at Hogwart's."
"Really?" Cathal said. He could feel that Casper was sitting forward in the seat next to him. "She never mentioned it to us."
"Well, I don't think she'd mind talking about it," Victoire said defensively. "It's not like there's anything wrong with living there - it's a great place, and anyway, her brother is friends with my uncle George. He was helping more than he was being helped. You should come and see it. It has playrooms, a quidditch pitch, and a even a lake with a lazy river - an indoor lake, mind you."
"It sounds great, doesn't it Casper?" Cathal asked.
"It does," Casper agreed softly, before turning to stare out the window at the scenery sliding by.
Victoria and Elizabeth came by to visit and check on Vikram, and the conversation quickly turned to what everyone wanted for Yule, or Christmas as the muggle students called it. The "three Vics," as they referred to themselves, chatted in rapid French.
"What about you, Elizabeth?" Hector asked.
"Oh, that is easy. I want books. I receive books. It works out."
He laughed. "Well, stun me for asking the obvious."
"Well, we also want a magical Screaming Blood Lemur, so you never can tell. And you?" She returned politely, a glint of amusement in her eye.
"Well," he scratched his chin, "a new racing broom would be awesome. But there's also some muggle fitness equipment I wouldn't mind having."
"Like at those gymnasiums they have?" Casper piped up.
"Yeah, exactly," Hector answered brightly. "Muggles are much better at physical arts than the magical world."
Casper nodded.
"Are your parents muggles?" Hector asked hesitantly.
"Oh, no," Casper fidgeted. "I just spend a lot of time in muggle London."
"And what would you like for Yule?" Elizabeth asked him, dark eyes thoughtful.
He fidgeted again. "Um, oh, we don't go in for that sort of thing much, in my family." He said vaguely.
Her brow furrowed and she exchanged glances with her sister, who was still talking to Vik and Victoire. But before she could press the point, Cathal intervened.
"Oh, look!" He exclaimed, pointing out the window. "We're almost there!" Everyone swiveled to follow his gaze, and Victoria and Elizabeth promptly rose.
"Well, we should get back to our compartment..." one said.
"...and get our things." The other finished.
"Happy Yule, everyone!" They said together, before slipping quietly out the door.
In the station, Cathal craned his head around, looking for his parents.
"They're probably hanging back a bit," he explained to Casper, who was hanging back a bit himself. "They've been around wizards, but not a lot, so they might be a little..." He broke off as he saw his parents at the center of a knot of people, all of them laughing uproariously.
"Oh, Cathal," his father said, spying him. "There you are, lad. We were enjoying the company so much, we forgot to look for you. Come, give us a hug, now." Cathal eagerly ran forward and threw his arms around his father, and then his mother. Casper stood back, staring at the tips of his shoes and clasping his school bag tightly in his hands.
"You must be Casper," a voice said to him, as a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up, startled, into Mrs. Hughes' warm gaze.
"Yes, ma'am," he squeaked.
"Well, young man, Cathal's written so much about you. We're just delighted you can celebrate the holidays with us." Her brow furrowed. "But I really don't feel right taking you all the way to Ireland without talking to your parents. Could we at least give them a call?"
"Mum," Cathal interrupted, "wizarding families don't use phones. They firecall or use mirrors or just go to someone's house."
She frowned. "Well, I can't do that, now can I?"
"How about if we send them an owl?" Mr. Hughes asked, nodding toward an owl-for-hire stand nearby.
Casper tried desperately to reassure his friend's parents that it wasn't necessary, but they were very insistent.
"Come," Mrs. Hughes said, "there's a little cafe right there where we can wait. They serve - what did they call it, Mr. Hughes?"
"Butterbeer, dear," he answered.
They had just sent the owl off with a message, when a man approached them.
"Are you Cathal Hughes?" The tall man was impeccably dressed in a dark muggle suit with a crisp white shirt and a blue-striped tie. His silver-threaded thick black hair was neatly combed, over a high, dusky forehead.
"Yes, sir," Cathal answered, straightening.
"I am Ramesh Patel, Vikram's father," he explained, his brown eyes serious. "On behalf of my family, I want to thank you for saving my son's life. We owe you a life debt, one we can never truly repay."
"Oh, ah," Cathal said, fidgeting with the collar of his coat. "Really, he would have done the same for me. There's no debt."
"No debt?" He asked in surprise. "I hope you don't take the situation lightly, because his mother and I, we certainly don't."
"Daaaaaad," Vikram moaned, running up to them. "You're totally embarrassing me. I told you he wasn't like that. Just because it's England doesn't mean everyone's old school."
Now Mr. Patel's eyes glinted.
"I was told I should offer to betroth you to my daughter...:
Vik made a strangling, choking sound.
"But I'm not sure that would be much of a reward..." he scratched his head. "She's a bit...high-spirited." He chuckled.
"Just as well," Mr. Hughes commented. "I dinnae think Cathal is ready to settle down. In fact, I don't think he's noticed girls yet, if you know what I mean," Mr. Hughes winked, and the two fathers laughed at their sons' horrified faces.
"Sean Hughes - and this is my wife, Eileen."
"Nice to meet you both. And truly - what Cathal did was very brave. You are always welcome in my house, and please let me know if there's ever anything we can do for you. I'm grateful Vikram has such good friends."
"Yes, well," Mr. Hughes answered, shooting Cathal a look, "that's very kind of you, and we've heard all about your son in Cathal's letters. We're just about to have a drink in the cafe - care to join us?"
"Thank you, but Vikram and I have to get to the international portkey station - we're headed back to Canada for the holidays. Another time, I hope?"
Mr. Hughes agreed pleasantly, and the Patels said their goodbyes.
"Something you need tell, young man?" Mrs. Hughes asked, tapping Cathal on the head, as she steered him toward the cafe.
They had already finished two butterbeers by the time Cathal told his story, and his mother was sputtering with outrage.
"Let me get this straight. The boy was attacked, almost died, you rescued him, were attacked by three boys, whom you rendered unconscious by unknown means. And the school did not see fit to notify us about any of this?"
"Now, now, come on, Eileen," her husband soothed. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. Why don't we reach out to Professor Bonglottom and invite him to visit? I am sure he can tell us all about it, and why we're only just hearing it now." Cathal and Casper exchanged glances, Casper's eyes huge. The foursome fell into silence at that point, as the station had emptied out, except for a self-sweeping broom patiently brushing away. Finally, the owl returned, with an apologetic hoot. Mrs. Hughes untied the letter, only to mutter in surprise: it was her own note being returned to her.
"Oh, um," Casper said, when they all looked at him quizzically. "When I told them I was going to a friend's house, they decided to go visit my great Uncle Abelard. At an unplottable vacation house...in Majorca. I...forgot."
"Oh, well," Mrs. Hughes said, clearly nonplussed.
"They don't really think about me all that much," Casper admitted softly, his face flushed.
"Well," Mrs. Hughes answered, looking closely at the boy, "I see. That's our gain then, isn't it? Shall we be going?"
Mr. Hughes promptly took a large brass ring out of his pocket. "Right, then. We can use this now, with you boys here. We had to fly to get here, of course. But this is much faster, if somewhat more nauseating. On the count of three? One...two...three..." And the four promptly winked out of the station.